


Princess

by Ribbonshalos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Arrange Marriage, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Royalty AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 20:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16730106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonshalos/pseuds/Ribbonshalos
Summary: Princess Angela weds the second son of the Emperor.





	Princess

One day. He only has one more day of freedom and of his own choices. Father says he should be proud, happy to be serving the clan as such. But as many times as Hanzo likes to label him, Genji is not a fool. The second son has very little value. A pawn to be married off in deals with other clans and empires.

The King and Queen sit across from them. Tall and graceful. Somehow, they convey respect without that air of fear. Their guards are of bright colors and small weapons. His eyes keep straying to the girl sitting at their side. Her foreign, blonde hair rare among his people.

The Princess.

They are a long line of royalty hailing from Europe. Their economy strong and waxing, containing many farmlands and food resources. They lack armies however, the one thing his family’s works tops them in. The Shimada Empire needs more resources, and the King and Queen of that domain wish for peace. A deal was struck that no wars would break between them, and they would assist in any future problems as needed.

The agreement is to be signed after the marriage of their daughter to him, the second Shimada son.

When the sun rises, the ceremony will commence. He will be bound to a stranger for the rest of his life.

Acid rises up at the back of his throat. A mixture of fear and dread. How can he share a bed with this women, when he has no idea of even her basic interests?

Hanzo’s glare settles his twitching body down, but a brief moment of the girl’s eyes grazes over him. Quick and blue, before she focuses back on her father’s words.

Genji looks down, trying to dream of his own land with his own governed people and his own choices.

*

There are worst people to marry, he figures. Princess Angela. A beautiful woman. And from what her parents have promised, a kind girl.

The bright morning sun brings the girl to their temple. Appearing like an angel in her culture’s dress of white. Lace hides her face, keeping her lovely hair twisted from out of her eyes.

He smiles, a motion that slips out of his control, but she sees it. The veil of lace unable to hide the small rush of red on her cheeks. His own face matching hers.

Genji has never worn such an extravagant kimono in his life, but the way her gaze stays on him helps ease the motions rolling through his stomach.  

The King walks her to his waiting hands. Genji having recited the ceremony thousands of times over, already knows how his freedom will end. They both stand at the altar, a priest above them reciting the marriage vows in his native tongue. She must have memorized the process as well, for she speaks Japanese when accepting his honor of her life as his wife. She in turns honors his life as her husband. Slipping the rings on their fingers, they both tremble.

They look at each other. Husband and wife. The grief in her eyes just as plain as his. For one moment, they share that burden. Genji dips his head slightly in apology, not knowing what else to do.

She gives a small, comforting smile at least.

They are officially married, but Genji does not lift her veil. Her mother weeps, and Genji’s father stands proudly beside him. They have no time to exchange words to their newly appointed spouses before they are getting whisked away to the feast in his father’s castle. The Emperor needs to finish signing the agreement with the King and Queen.

*

After much patience and endurance, the celebration ends. They are escorted to their newly made room. The door closes behind them, and Genji bites the inside of his cheek. This moment the most terrible one of the entire day.

The silence eats away at his mind. The part that should come next isn’t difficult to figure out. Even with his time sneaking out and messing around with women, this feels wrong. He can’t just depart in the morning rays when they are through.

Turning to face to her, he swallows down bile.

“I’m sorry.” She says first, speaking the common language they both know while accented in her native tongue. “This… this won’t be easy, I suppose.”

He lets off a strained chuckle. The nerves of the entire day damaging his body.

“No, I suppose it won’t…” His fingers twist the ring on his left hand. More of a curse than a promise.

She shifts, hands clasped together in front of her, but fingers twisting each other around.

“I did make those marriage vows, just as you did.” Her pink lips speaking true. “I will uphold them as long as you do, Genji.”

His name. She says it.

The first time since the ceremony.

Tearing his gaze from the floor, he meets her just as weary and worried expression. Blue eyes crinkled and waiting for him.

She’s just as much as an unwilling participant as he is. The thought comforts as well as depresses at the same time.

“Princess, I swear to do so.” He breathes. The river has caught him in the current, but it is his choice to drown, or swim. “I will not expect anything of you until you are ready.”

The ghost of a smile releases the tension out of her body. Blinking under the lace veil, she breathes in deeply. As if now taking in the oxygen she so desperately needs until now.

“Thank you, but you may call me Angela.” She says, a voice that sounds lovely now that he listens to it for reassurance.

“You are still a princess,” he says softly. “That title is still yours.”

Her brow lightens, her shoulders loosening for a moment in the fabric of the extravagate gown. Slowly, her hands lift the veil from her hair, showing her face more clearly.

“We do not know each other,” she admits, making Genji chuckle again. Less stressed this time, he notes. “But perhaps we can still, yes?”

If he is to be with this girl from the rest of his life, the very least they could be is friends. He can live with that. He can make that choice on his own.

“Yes.” He agrees. Watching her move to the large bed meant to be shared by their bodies. Patting the covers by her side, Genji goes to her. Giving her space but close enough to see the tremble of her lips as she asks him what his favorite color is.

*

Though he finds it would be funny without context, Genji did enjoy getting to know his wife throughout their first night as a married couple. She loves snow, and hates violence. Her parents love her dearly and she knows the art of healing.

Her favorite color is yellow.

It was unusual to sleep on the ground, for his entire life has known soft pillows and warm blankets, but he made a promise. Her comfort is his first priority.

He guides her around her new home. Showing her crafty hiding places of where he’s best Hanzo in a game of hide and seek as small children. Her laugh is quiet and enjoyable, but rare in its occurrences.

In quiet moments, she’ll gaze out the window to the grassy stone garden and all the way down the hillside. Her face still as the sky and tight as the rocks.

Her parents leave the night after next. He knows that will not be easy.

They dine with their families. Sitting side by side. His father smiles, reminiscing of his promise of their marriage being happy. Her parents’ brows tighten with worry, but they say nothing.

He calls her Princess Angela in warning of a hot piece of food, and her mother’s eyes hold onto him for the rest of dinner.  

That night in their bedroom, he asks more questions of his own. Of her dreams and favorite flowers and desserts. She answers, but they are given slowly and with pause. Her mind focusing elsewhere. He cuts short the session to let her rest, and she smiles gratefully as he beds down on the floor.

*

This day he spends without his princess. She goes to her family, spending the rest of their time here with each other. He tries not to think of how it will hurt when they leave her. Rarely do Kings and Queens leave their country behind, but the marriage of their daughter is one exception.

After dinner, the Princess approaches him. Her chin held high but her eyelids trembling as she asks to spend the night with her family.

“You are the Princess.” He says. “I do not make your decisions.”

She exhales in a soft way. Her gaze dropping to the floor before her hand touches his arm for one moment. A silent thank you on her lips before she departs.

The last of her parents’ hours here soon burn up.

They leave with the fleeing stars. The sun at their back as they leave their daughter to her husband and family.

He sees her expression, and already knows. Taking her to their room, she slips under the covers. Her shoulders shaking under the weight she now bares. Her lungs heave with the effort to contain her sobs.

His hand hovers in the air, wanting to comfort the agony in her soul but he can’t reach it. The attempt will only upset her more.

“Do you wish for me to leave?”

Her strangle breaths echo for a moment.

“Yes.” Quiet as the wind.

He looks to the window pane, seeing the light brighten the cherry blossom trees just outside of their walls.

“I will return tonight… to make sure you are well, and then I will leave.” The promise sounds scratchy and rough even in his own throat, but he says it nevertheless.

She is still his wife, and he won’t abandoned her to her grief.

The floor does not announce his exit, but the soft click of the door does. Standing for just a moment in the hallway, her cries grow. Loud and desperate. Calling for a family she will perhaps never see again.

His knuckles pop as his fists curl tightly. The Princess’s sobs ignite a raw emotion in his chest. Grinding his teeth, he goes to search for his brother. Knowing he won’t refuse a session of sword practice.

A small way to release energy, but in no way a solution to dry the Princess’s tears.

*

His knock is gentle, perhaps too quiet but she answers from within. Pushing the door open with his shoulder, he enters with a tray. Careful to not lose its contents as he walks to the stand by the bedside.

Quietly, he goes to her side. Her arms wrap around her body as she stares through the glass pane. The locks of white gold on her head rest down today, partly to hide her puffy face. She ducks her head when he comes close.

“There’s food, if you’d like it.” He says quietly, watching her fingers press into her skin. “I also brought a cloth soaked with oil. It will help your face after…” He doesn’t wish to sound insulting by speaking of her grief. The tears and red skin is enough for both of them to know.

She doesn’t talk, the silence only fills with their breaths and Genji’s frustration burning his insides.

There is little he can do to change the Princess’s fate, but he wants to make it bearable. Although knowing very little of her, he knows she’s good. She deserves kind things.

“I’ll leave you in peace,” he announces, turning on the balls of his feet. Unable to take a step to the door, however, her hand tugs on his arm.

“Have you eaten?” She asks. Even as her corneas are bloodshot and her cheeks are puffy, she worries for him.

“Yes.” He cringes internally at his sudden mistake. He should have waited to eat with his wife.

Her hand withdraws from him, leaving the spot cold and unfamiliar. Wiping a hand ungracefully across her eyes, she breathes in for a moment.

“Will you stay?”

A request. He can leave, run away from another problem as he would have before.

“If you wish, Princess,” meaning every word.

They are both not what they were before. Before the rings and titles were placed upon them. Hanzo has scorned him for hours on his foolishness and putting off his duties.

No more.

She calls for him. He will answer.

They both sit on the edge of the bed. The tray in her lap while she eats the slightly cold meal. He talks about the day, his brother and training. How Hanzo will snap at him for a mistake, but their fights are evenly matched for the most part.

She smiles after wiping her mouth. Not so stiff and formal around him anymore, he notes. This brightens a small part in his chest.

Once the food is gone, and she seems a little lighter, he reaches for the cloth. Damp and cool, but smelling lightly of oil. Their knees bump as they face one another. Her skin swollen and red from the day’s tears.

“This will bring down the swelling, and make you feel better. Or at least, that’s what my mother told me,” he adds with a faint smile.

She looks to him, letting a finger touch the cloth in his lap. The fragrance from the oil is as light and soothing as he remembers.

“What happened to your mother?” A soft question as she studies the resin of oil on her fingertip.

He turns his head, wanting to throw the question aside, but this is the Princess asking. She deserves to know.

“Disease caught her three years ago.” He says quietly as her gaze softens upon him. “There was nothing the physicians could do.”

Breaking away, he looks to the cloth in his hand. The oil scent bringing him memories of childhood and the comfort of his mother. A soft hand and hush tones as she told him stories.

“I’m sorry, Genji…” She says, a soft mercy in her voice.

She shifts, the movement bring him back to her as she tucks her hair behind her ears. Using one hand to hold her golden locks draping down on shoulder, she lifts her chin. Presenting her face and waiting.

He starts, realizing her intention. For the first time, anxiety fills him at touching a woman. His own wife but never before like this. In a way that’s simply gentle and healing than wanting of skin contact.

Taking a breath, and taking courage, he lifts the cloth. Her eyes hold him steady, blue as the sea on a sunny day. Carefully, he dabs a corner of the cloth against her cheek. She breathes out at the contact, but the sigh is content. Nothing to fear.

Gaining confidence, he leans forward. His kneecap touching her thigh as the space closes between them. As gentle as a feather floating to the ground, he brushes the oil underneath both eyes. Her eyelids flutter at the soothing sensation, but stay close to the growing look of bliss on Genji’s face.

With a soft back and forth motion, Genji covers the rest of her cheeks. Cupping his hand and holding it to her skin for a moment, her eyes open. Bringing him back to her ocean.

“You can keep it pressed against your skin while you sleep tonight.” He says, staying still as her free hand reaches up for it. A brief contact of their skin as they switch roles. Warm like the sun against his fingers, he pulls back. He just barely notices how close their faces are now.

“I already feel better,” she breathes out in a note of laughter. Holding the cloth to her cheek, a small smile graces her lips. “Thank you, Genji.”

He dips his head, “I’m glad, Princess.”

*

They begin to slide into the space beside each other. She lets her hand rest on his arm as he shows her the castle and talks about their blood line. The strong Emperors and Empresses that graced the Shimada name.

In the cherry blossom tree grove, she finally speaks about their marriage. How she loves her parents, and how much they tried to find a duchess to take her place. The Princess only sheds a tear, and takes a few deep breaths before answering happily about helping her kingdom. About doing all over again if it meant protecting her people.

He grows silence at her words. The binding of the situation tying them up even more tightly. Breathing out, he gathers a bud of blooming pink to place in her hands.

Hanzo asks about his wife, and only Genji can see the quiet dread in his eyes of when he’ll have to marry. A women of high nobility from their homeland no doubt. Nothing less but perfect for the young master of course. Someone to give the Shimada clan strong children to continue their work.

Speaking about the Princess is akin to holding a candle close to his hands. Small, but warm and bright. Hanzo doesn’t seem as troubled.

A month passes, and they are something like friends. Even stealing food off of each other’s plates when they get the rare opportunity to dine alone. The garden is beautiful to her, and Genji has arranged a little section just for her small herbs to grow. The sunshine warming both their skin as they dig up weeds.

Bad nights are becoming rare sights, but it breaks his chest as much as it did the first time to hear her sobs. He asks if she wishes for him to leave, and the first few times were always answered with yes. But one night, she only asks for him to retrieve the oil soaked cloth. Silently, he cleans her tears and soothes her red skin. The moment still so overwhelming to what he’s know. The only woman to make his heart race in uncertainty.

She asks him to stay on bad nights now. Sleeping on the ground close to the side of the bed she rests on. Her hair will spill over the mattress, gold in the moonlight. Her palm resting on the side of the bed as her gaze looks over him. Sometimes her quiet, trembling voice asks for stories, and Genji spins her words of dragons and gold and unbreakable swords.

“I’m sorry, Princess.” He breathes out after her breaths only hiccup and her eyes are left dry. “You don’t deserve this.”

Her palm moves, reaching down to wear he lies on the ground. Without thought, he answers her. Their fingers interlacing as thread knits together.

“You make it bearable,” she whispers, soft and broken but with all the blood of her heart rushing through her voice. “I’m glad it was you, Genji.”

He wonders if she can feel his pulse through his fingertips.

*

Two months pass as husband and wife. The cherry blossom festival is erupting across the cities with lanterns and sweet treats. He tells her more about their traditions and beliefs. She listens intensely.

It’s almost perplexing, but he has more freedom as a married man. Before his father and brother would get after him for not performing his duty. Yet, being part of the link that holds two kingdoms together allows him and his wife to travel to the festive openly. Versus when he’d climb out the window of his bedroom just to see the pretty girls and lite groves of pink cherry blossoms.

Wearing a dress in his country’s fashion, she looks like a dream. White, orange and yellow decorating her kimono. With her golden hair tied back and her smile soft and shy, he tells her that the moon would be jealous of her gaze.

The festive is bright and warm. Guards still swarm their sides as they try to get through the crowd. People whispering and pointing at the foreign girl with yellow hair.

He links his arm through hers, keeping his chin held high as he walks passes his people. Daring anyone who looks to mock his wife. The Princess ducks her head at the attention but focused on him now.

“They’re staring…” she murmurs, gaze flickering to the crowd.

“Only because you’re beautiful, Princess,” he reassures her. Tugging her gently along until they reach a stone bridge crossing a river. Pink petals from nearby trees swim on the surface of the water, a magical path that won’t hold one’s feet but one’s eyes for some time.

The Princess turns, one hand resting on the stone ledge as she lets the ocean fill his soul.

“Thank you, Genji.” Her brow crinkles in concern, but her eyes hold soft. “You have been so kind, and you have given me everything I’ve asked for…”

This is all wrong. He’s the one who’s smooth and slick and untouched by gentle words. Blood shouldn’t be slowly filling his cheeks at her accent speaking only for him.

Her gaze drifts to the water flowing with petals. “I was heartbroken. I thought this was the end.”

The ribbon wrapped around her waist waves through the air, her hand pats it down before looking to his eyes, smiling as soft as the colors of the festival.

“But you showed me a different light. One that’s still strong and beautiful… One that can grow brighter.”

His hand darts out, cupping hers before registering the movement. She looks to their hands, like the few nights they’ve shared this touch. Blinking once, she looks back to him.

“Princess…” Her words have stirred so much inside of his ribcage, another word would have melted him completely. “You understand little of your effect on me, and I fear if you speak one more kind thing I will be nothing but your light.”

Her lips part in a silent breath, never losing focus. The tips of her fingers slightly curling tighter over his hand.

Drawing air and strength, he says, “I ask for the attempt to court you. Properly… for ourselves.”

It’s the moment he first wiped away the tears on her cheeks. When her hand slipped into his for comfort after a bad night. The time the cherry blossoms were blessed with her laughter. A time of sun and softness when her smile graced his being.

And now, it’s the gentle squeeze her hand gives his.

“It seems we are doing this entire thing backwards,” she says, a soft chuckle filling her words, “but I suppose it will have to be.”

The action itself isn’t slow, but the moment binds itself into Genji’s mind. Her toes pushing her up, her lips pressing against his cheek, and the small breath against his skin as she breaks the contact but stays close.

She looks up to him, pink petals embedding on her cheeks at the action.

“I will allow you to court me, Genji.” She breathes out, saving his trembling soul.

He ducks his head, bending to bring her knuckles to his lips. Soft and quick, but allowing him to hide the overwhelming delight on his face.

“Thank you, Princess.” His breath whispers against her hand. “I hope to have your heart as you already have mine.”


End file.
